Naked
by Future Cool Aunt
Summary: Rick returns to the Hilltop after confronting the escaped Savior POWs. He now has to face Michonne and his current circumstances. This is my reinterpretation of the Richonne scenes from 8x14.


**A/N: I am speechless at the love that Post-War has received. Thanks for any and all reviews, likes and reblogs on Tumblr, etc. While Post-War is how I wish The Walking Dead had proceeded, I was so moved by the Richonne scenes in 8x14 that I couldn't get this story out of my head. More angsty than I thought I would write, but I still hope you enjoy!**

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 **NAKED**

Rick walked into the bedroom that Maggie had graciously offered him and his wife. The same wife Rick worried about confronting in that moment.

She warned him to stay back at the Hilltop and read his son's letter. But he got so consumed with guilt, frustration, and rage that he couldn't abide by her. Not even having his daughter peacefully playing by his side could keep him from leaving. He had to take care of some business.

He actually got it done. Took out some of the Savior prisoners of war who had escaped. Whatever release he hoped to gain from that, however, was temporary. It was during his return that he realized that there would never be enough Lucilles to burn or enemies to kill that would substitute for taking the time to grieve over his loss.

His wife was right, as usual.

Upon entering the bedroom, he observed Michonne lying in bed. She appeared to be reading a book, having read the letter addressed to her hours earlier. She immediately paused when she saw her husband standing before her only wearing a towel around his waist.

She moved over the left side of the bed, then folded the covers over her to reveal the right side of the mattress. Her actions indicated that she was inviting Rick to join her.

Rick froze and simply studied his wife. Today had been the first day since the tragedy that he had taken the time to just look at her. He knew she was also hurting. His loss was also her loss. Even more heartbreaking, she was experiencing the worst nightmare of any parent for a second time.

Yet she had made overtures to him, giving him the space to be vulnerable and share in this pain together. She was still doing it now when she had all the reason in the world to be upset with him. She was continually managing to find the strength to pull him from the abyss because, unfortunately, she understood exactly what he was going through.

Until today, he hadn't been able to give in to her demands; he hadn't been able to glance at her, fearful of how he might react. Fearful that if he paused in his efforts to end the war, then he would only be left with his thoughts, confirming that the death was real.

But as others told him, and even as he told himself, _this_ wasn't about him. Michonne needed comforting. She needed someone to hold her, cry with her, encourage her. As she reminded him hours earlier, others saved her when she was in her darkest period. He had been one of those people. He needed to be one of those people now.

With no words said, Rick stepped to his assigned side of the bed. He sat next to Michonne's legs, his body facing hers, and removed the covers that she had piled over herself.

She was naked.

When she had earlier urged her husband to stay, she exposed herself emotionally. Now lying undressed in bed, she was exposing herself physically.

Rick gently massaged her legs, then began placing soft kisses on her knees. He heard her breath hitch briefly, more than likely out of uncertainty on her part of what he would do upon finding her in this state. As his kisses continued along her thighs, waist, and stomach, she relaxed against the pillows and threaded her fingers through his curls.

Michonne's hands traveled down to Rick's beard and softly shifted his face so she could gaze into his blue eyes, which held a light hue due to the unshed tears.

"Lay here with me," she pleaded.

He detached himself from her embrace. Before she could agonize over whether he was backing away from her again, he placed his hands around his towel and discarded it, leaving it on the hardwood floor.

Rick maneuvered himself to where he was lying on his back. He gripped his wife by her waist and pulled her until she was straddling him, the covers only obscuring his legs.

Michonne took Rick's head in her hands again. She leaned her body forward until their foreheads, chests, and stomachs were touching. He closed his eyes at the feel of her body pressed against his, with her following suit. For the first time since the unthinkable happened, Rick didn't feel the need to run away. Wrapping his arms around Michonne and bringing her as close to him as possible, he felt a sense of home.

He let out a heavy sigh. Any concern he had about confronting her washed away, but he still believed an apology for his defiance was warranted. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be," she quietly assured him.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," she responded with a slight hiccup.

Rick felt wetness along his cheeks. The tears weren't his.

It wasn't the first time he said the words. Rick had been professing his love for Michonne since proposing marriage in the abandoned school gymnasium. During that same trip, they discussed the possibility of losing loved ones in the quest to reorder things together. Neither could have imagined that someone who had been such a motivation in creating this new world was gone.

As the night progressed, Rick and Michonne continued to comfort one another.

They cried over their loss and told stories about their loved one, both sad and funny, both told before and shared for the first time.

They strategized, detailing hopes for the immediate and long-term future for the communities and their family unit, which they agreed they wanted to expand.

They renewed their exploration of each other's bodies, realizing this was the first night they had been intimate since the war, with Michonne finally recovering from her injuries and Rick finally taking a moment to pause.

Kissing, touching, and caressing, they made love as the sunlight began to filter through their bedroom.

Slowly and delicately, the pair reconnected, promising to progress through the hurt and sorrow.

Together.

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Later that day, perched on the balcony outside his bedroom, Rick observed Michonne and Judith playing in the distance. He held a piece of paper in his hands.

Rick then took the first course of action he and his wife concluded was necessary in order for him to move forward.

He read his son's letter.

.


End file.
